with you, i'm alive
by The Corsair's Quill
Summary: He has watched her ever since they made port and entered the tavern, nursing his ale in the back corner, surrounded by his rambunctious men. She could feel his gaze boring into the back of her neck, the feeling sending tingles down her spine and making her suppress a shiver.


He has watched her ever since they made port and entered the tavern, nursing his ale in the back corner, surrounded by his rambunctious men with the drinking and laughing and betting- and losing and winning- _celebrating_ life as pirates. All this, and he remains quiet, his brooding eyes for none but her, brushing of the advances of every maid- or whore, doesn't matter.

 _Emma Swan_ , tavern maid and the woman who had wrenched her way into his heart in a matter of moments with her sharp eyes that see everything, -disarming you and making you feel stripped to your soul,- and sun kissed hair that feels softer than the finest silk to touch, smelling like something sweet at the break of dawn. He sighed deeply, watching her and wanting her, feeling so very far away as she smiles thinly at the groping men, deftly slipping from their reach, throwing them a teasing glint that hides how much she truly hated this- hated having to put up with the horrible drunks, being paid so little- just being _here._

She eyed him from across the room, looking startled when she noticed him staring right back, quick to divert her gaze and move towards the bar, wiping her hand on a towel. She chances another glance at him, and he pretends not to notice, looking down at his empty tankard.

-/-

She sighs, turning her back to Kil-Captain Jones, her shoulders tense from tiredness- and perhaps, if she were being honest with herself, from his presence. It threw her off, seeing him again after what had happened the last time; her pulse had raced and throat closed up, making it almost impossible for her to breathe and forced her to retreat to the back to calm herself. But she couldn't do anything to stop the guilt eating at her, twisting her insides in ridiculous knots and forcing her to relive the moment that broke her world apart.

She could see it all clear as day, even now. Even a year later. His heartbreak clear on his face with his red rimmed eyes and cracking voice, imploring her, _pleading_ with her- breaking her heart for breaking his, as she'd brushed away her tears- and brushed away him.

But now- now she could feel his gaze boring into the back of her neck, the feeling sending tingles down her spine and making her suppress a shiver. She sighed to herself, hefting the tray full of ale, maneuvering her way through the crowds, heading towards the one table she'd hoped to avoid. She wanted to be quick, leave the tray and rush away, hoping to avoid him altogether. But that didn't seem to be a problem for her, because the moment she risked a glance towards where he sat, all that there was left was an empty seat- and an empty tankard.

And despite herself, her heart sank. Because as much as she wanted to avoid him, as much as she hated herself what she she did, and as much as she told herself that she were better off alone- she also knew that it was _that_ much that she wanted to see him, wanted to hold him and kiss him and lie in his arms and just _be_.

Her hands shook a little as she placed the tray on the table, shooting the pirates her practiced smile, even as they all stopped talking the moment she's appeared, and planning to turn in for the night, her heart feeling suddenly too heavy. That's when she feels a small tug on her arm, drawing her from her thoughts. She turned around to a short, red faced man clutching a hat to match in his hands, twisting it and shuffling on his feet nervously.

"Smee, can I help you?" she asked him, her voice soft and weary, just about ready to fall asleep standing.

"Aye," he hesitated a moment, before he continued. "The captain, he sent a message for you- to meet him at dawn. On-on the Jolly," he added, at Emma's bemused stare, which quickly turned to fear. Fear for what he would want to say, of what he would be feeling, considering how it had all ended the last time. In spite of her apprehension, she finds herself agreeing.

Later, as she lies in her tiny bed, staring at the beams above her, she struggled to breathe, like how she would feel if her corset was on too tight and the laces were far out of reach, making it impossible for her to cut loose and just- just _breathe_. She tries pushing the worry gnawing at her down, down, _down_ until it's well buried- well into the ground, dead and decaying and never to be brought back up.

But that's what she'd said about her feelings for the man haunting her dreams, as well, and it's all too clear how well that worked out. She huffs out a breath, wiping away the tears she hadn't even noticed, slipping back into her clothes, and her cloak. ( _And if her corset was slightly loose, well, she pretends not to notice)._

-/-

She wrapped the cloak around her tighter as she carefully stepped up the gangplank and onto the Jolly, feeling a shiver go down her spine. She barely had a moment to enjoy the feeling of being back before she felt a hand grab her by the hood of her cloak, pulling it back and pressing sharp, cold steel against her throat in a matter of seconds, making her gasp, her eyes widening in fear.

She felt the dagger press harder for a moment before she was let go completely, making her stumble slightly before she regained her balance. She turned around, her heart in her throat, only to come face to face with Captain Jones. He was looking at her with wide eyes, shocking blue glinting under the moonlight. She shook her head, her hands clenching her cloak as they both struggled to find the words.

Finally, he placed the dagger back in his boot, looking up at her from under his lashes, with an almost bored look on his face. If she didn't know him like she did, she would have been fooled by this façade. "I was under the impression you agreed to meet at dawn," he said, as a conversation starter, looking away from her and walking towards the railing to lean against it.

Emma blinked, swallowing down the lump in her throat, her heart racing because this is the closest they have been in a year, and _by the_ _Gods_ had she missed him. Her heart was racing, so much like it had when all of this- this between them- was new and wonderful and amazing and _true and just-_ she's missed him.

She takes a deep, shaky breath, standing as close to him as she dared, but not close enough to touch. "I couldn't sleep," she finally replied, shrugging one shoulder dismissively.

He shot her a side-long glance, just for a moment, before he went back to staring into the dark depths of the ocean. "Aye," he whispered. "I know what you mean."

She cleared her throat, her hands tightening on her cloak to hide the trembling. "What did you wish to talk about?" she found herself asking before she had the courage to hear the answer.

Because truth be told, she was afraid of what it would be. Afraid that it would be just as it was the last time, with all the fighting and yelling and- and _heartbreak and tears and-_ no, she couldn't afford to think like that. She waited for his reply, her worry mounting with every passing second, disturbed only by the lap of waves against the ship and Killian's steady breathing. She could feel the tension he was exerting, his body rigid and his hands clenching the railing so tight, she was afraid he was going to crack it.

His jaw clenched as he prepared himself for what came next. "I wanted to talk about us, Emma," he breathed, still unable to meet her eyes.

Emma sucked in a sharp breath, feeling almost foolish was being surprised by this. Of course he would want to talk about them; there wasn't much else for them to talk about. But she found herself sighing anyway, "Killian..."

"No," he cut her off, an edge to his voice unsettling her. "The last time we spoke, we both said some choice words that I'm sure we regret, but let me just say what I wish to before we- we go any further."

"I meant what I said," she whispered, her voice so quite he almost didn't hear her. But he did, and of all things, _that's_ what made his look at her, his eyes wide with disbelief.

She felt her heart break as he blinked his eyes, his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly, the betrayal clear in his eyes. "Do you truly not regret any of it?"

-/-

To say that he was hurt would be a gross understatement, as he let what he just heard sink in. A year; he had gone a _year_ without her, regretting every word he'd thrown at her at the heat of the moment, wanting to turn the _Jolly_ back, fall at her feet and apologize, and never leave her again. And he'd hoped she felt the same, but here he was learning that she meant everything she'd said.

"Do you truly not regret any of it?" he asked, proud that his voice did not break, no matter how torn up he was on the inside. "Not even a bit of it?!" he demanded, his eyebrows pulled low, trying to reign in his anger.

Emma closed her eyes, wishing she's not said anything at all. Shaking her head, she answered him, "I- I do. I regret the way I said what I did, and the way we left things. But everything I told you, it was the truth, Killian. We couldn't go living like that. What kind of life would that have been?" Her voice rose with ever word, until it was high pitched and squeaky, almost close to tears. "I was miserable, and I-"

"Oh, and are you happy now, Swan?" he spat, his eyes blazing with a fire she'd only been too familiar with. But never once had it been directed at her. "Are you happier, now that I'm out of your way, out of your life- letting you live it the way you see fit? Is this what you wanted?"

"Stop it," she whispered, tears burning her eyes, but he ignored her and went on.

"This was the life you left me for? Being a bar maid, in some run down tavern and living on the measly coin you earn _tending_ to the patrons?" he sneered, his tone quickly turning cruel.

"Are-are you suggesting that I would-" she recoiled, her eyebrows pulled together, hurt by his lashing words. "Of course I'm not happy!" she snapped, throwing her arms up in the air. " _This_ isn't what I wanted, so of _course_ I'm not happy, Killian! But I was-I was-"

"You were _what?"_

 _"_ I was angry!" she burst out, swiping angrily at the tears that fell. "I was angry, and we were constantly fighting and you- you were so reckless and stubborn and you are a right _bastard!"_ she shouted, her voice breaking.

Killian swallowed his guilt, his own anger adding fuel to the fire. " _We were wed!"_ he snapped, fists clenching. "You _are_ my wife, still. And yet you chose to walk out on our marriage! _You. Chose. That_." he sneered, getting so close that they were just inches apart, their breaths mingling in the cold night.

A slap resounded across the water, Killian's head turned to one side by the force of it. Emma brought her hand to cover her mouth, stifling a gasp at what she had done. "I am so sorry!" she reached her hand out hesitantly, but withdrew them before she touched him. She started to back away, her eyes downcast. "I knew I should have refused to this," she mumbled, turning her back to him, only to be caught around the wrist and whirled around, almost falling on his chest.

"I am not letting you walk away again," he whispered, his eyes blown wide and intense as they met hers.

"Killian," she sighed. "Nothing has changed. I still feel the way I did a year ago; that is never going to change. I cannot watch you risk your life in the name of justice. I-I know how much you loved Liam, and how much you wish to avenge him," she was sobbing now, her free hand covering her face. "But- but I _can't_ bear to stand by you as you risk you life against _battle ships_ , Killian! I can't change your mind, but I refuse to stand and watch you die; or worse yet, get captured and hanged! I love you too much," her voice was hoarse from her tears.

Sniffling, she wiped at her nose, looking away from him. "I couldn't do it any longer. I couldn't go on each day, wondering ' _Is this the day? Is this the day I lose him? Is he going to survive this battle? Is this the_ last _one?'_ I thought that being away from you would help; that if we weren't... _us_ , that I would finally not worry. But you have no idea the number of times I've woken up to my own screams because I'm plagued by memories of you returning bloody and hurt and in pain, nightmares of you dying alone at sea...I just couldn't- _can't_ \- do it anymore, Killian," she concluded, feeling weary after her outburst, falling to her her knees and leaning against the side of the ship.

Through all this Killian stared at her, mouth agape and heart hurting for everything he'd put her through. When she's begged him to give up on his quest a year ago, he'd refused to see reason, too blinded by his thirst for revenge to see how it was breaking his wife up from the inside out. That was why, when she left, he'd felt more betrayed than anything. He is realizing how his stubbornness had blinded him to her suffering, his ego coming in the way of common sense and ruining his marriage- or almost, if he had any say in it.

"You are tearing me apart, Swan," he whispered brokenly, kneeling in front of her, his hand cupping her cheek tenderly. "I'm so very sorry, my love. I was so happy with you, that I felt like I let my brother down by not avenging his death. But I let my brother down by hurting you. Liam would have been disappointed in me for what I did to you in the name of revenge. I love you, Swan. I've always loved you," his voice is reverent as he pressed kisses on her tear-stained cheeks, brushing his nose against hers lovingly, making her smile despite herself.

But she was quick to sober up, looking up at him. Her thumb traced his cheekbones absentmindedly, "I never stopped loving you," she confessed, pressing their foreheads together. "But I can't do it again."

He let out a deep, shuddering breath. "I know," he agreed.

"Does this-" she gulped, pushing back a fresh wave of tears. "Is this goodbye then?" her voice wavered, her hands gripping the lapels of his coat unconsciously.

He allowed himself a smile at that, tracing her features softly, with just the tips of his fingers. "No, darling. No more goodbyes. I don't ever wish to be parted from you for so long," his voice was soft when he said that, his own smile brightening as light finally returned to her eyes. "I've given up my quest for revenge. It doesn't matter- none of that matters anymore to me. Liam wouldn't have wanted me to waste my life in such a manner. I want you, Emma. Just you, and the rest of my life _with_ you, together."

As she started crying again, he panicked, worrying he'd said the wrong thing. But she was quick to reassure him. "Happy tears, I swear," she hiccoughed. "I've _dreamed_ that you would come back to me, countless times. But for it to actually happen..." she shook her head in disbelief. Hesitantly, she asked, toying with a button on his vest and not meeting his eyes, "Are-are you certain that this is what you want? Because I don't want you to resent me come a few years, Killian. I need you to-"

"Swan," he cut her off, gazing at her with an amused, adoring smile on his face. "I'm all in. I'm in love with you. I was a fool for letting you go once, I'm not going to repeat that mistake," he vowed. "I want it all with you, Emma."

She smiled through her tears, throwing her arms around him and almost knocking him down. He caught her with a laugh, his own eyes shining with unshed tears. "Gods, I've missed you," she grins in between kisses.

"Don't worry, Swan. This is just the beginning of the rest of our lives together."

* * *

 **Review?**


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